(The blood of Yéitso.)
334. While he was standing there in thought, he observed approaching him a little old man dressed in tight leggings and a tight shirt, with a cap and feather on his head; this was Hazaí, the Ground Squirrel. “What do you want here, my grandchild?” said Hazaí. “Nothing; I am only walking around,” replied the warrior. Four times this question was asked and four times a similar answer given, when Ground Squirrel spoke again and inquired: “Do you not fear the anáye that dwells on yonder plain?” “I do not know,” replied Nayénĕzgạni; “I think I have killed him, but I am not certain.” “Then I can find out for you,” said Hazaí. “He never minds me. I can approach him any time without danger. If he is dead I will climb up on his horns and dance and sing.” Nayénĕzgạni had not watched long when he saw Hazaí climbing one of the horns and dancing on it. When he approached his dead enemy he found that Hazaí had streaked his own face with the blood of the slain (the streaks remain on the ground squirrel’s face to this day), and that Nasĭ′zi had already begun to remove the skin by gnawing on the insides of the fore-legs. When Gopher had removed the skin, he put it on his own back and said: “I shall wear this in order that, in the days to come, when the people increase, they may know what sort of a skin Téelgĕt wore.” He had a skin like that which covers the Gopher to-day. Hazaí cut out a piece of the bowel, filled it with blood, and tied the ends; he cut out also a piece of one of the lungs, and he gave these to Nayénĕzgạni for his trophies.[134]
335. When Nayénĕzgạni came home again, he was received with great rejoicing, for his mother had again begun to fear he would never more return. “Where have you been, my son, and what have you done since you have been gone?” she queried. “I have been to Bikehalzĭ′n and I have slain Téelgĕt,” he replied. “Ah, speak not thus, my son,” she said; “he is too powerful for you to talk thus lightly about him. If he knew what you said he might seek you out and kill you.” “I have no fear of him,” said her son. “Here is his blood, and here is a piece of his liver. Do you not now believe I have slain him?” Then he said: “Mother, grandmother, tell me, where do the Tseʻnă′hale[135] dwell?” “They dwell at Tséʻbĭtaï (Winged Rock),”[136] she answered, “but do not venture near them; they are fierce and strong.”
336. Next morning early he stole away, taking with him the piece of bowel filled with blood. He climbed the range of mountains where the hill of Tsúskai rises, and travelled on till he came to a place where two great snakes lay. Since that day these snakes have been changed into stone. He walked along the back of one of the snakes, and then he stepped from one snake to the other and went out on the plain that stretched to the east of the mountains, until he came close to Tséʻbĭtaï, which is a great black rock that looks like a bird. While he was walking along he heard a tremendous rushing sound overhead, like the sound of a whirlwind, and, looking up, he saw a creature of great size, something like an eagle in form, flying toward him from the east. It was the male Tseʻnă′hale. The warrior had barely time to cast himself prone on the ground when Tseʻnă′hale swooped over him. Thus four times did the monster swoop at him, coming each time from a different direction. Three times Nayénĕzgạni escaped; but the fourth time, flying from the north, the monster seized him in his talons and bore him off to Tséʻbĭtaï.
337. There is a broad, level ledge on one side of Tséʻbĭtaï, where the monster reared his young; he let the hero drop on this ledge, as was his custom to do with his victims, and perched on a pinnacle above. This fall had killed all others who had dropped there; but Nayénĕzgạni was preserved by the life-feather, the gift of Spider Woman, which he still kept. When the warrior fell he cut open the bag of bowel that he carried and allowed the blood of Téelgĕt to flow out over the rock, so that the anáye might think he was killed. The two young approached to devour the body of the warrior, but he said “Sh!” at them. They stopped and cried up to their father: “This thing is not dead; it says ‘Sh!’ at us.” “That is only air escaping from the body,” said the father; “Never mind, but eat it.” Then he flew away in search of other prey. When the old bird was gone, Nayénĕzgạni hid himself behind the young ones and asked them, “When will your father come back, and where will he sit when he comes?” They answered: “He will return when we have a he-rain,[137] and he will perch on yonder point” (indicating a rock close by on the right). Then he inquired: “When will your mother return, and where will she sit?” “She will come when we have a she-rain,[137] and will sit on yonder point” (indicating a crag on the left). He had not waited long when drops of rain began to fall, the thunder rolled, lightning flashed, the male Tseʻnă′hale returned and perched on the rock which the young had pointed out. Then Nayénĕzgạni hurled a lightning arrow and the monster tumbled to the foot of Winged Rock dead. After a while rain fell again, but there was neither thunder nor lightning with it. While it still poured, there fell upon the ledge the body of a Pueblo woman, covered with fine clothes and ornamented with ear pendants and necklaces of beautiful shells and turquoise. Nayénĕzgạni looked up and beheld the female Tseʻnă′hale soaring overhead (she preyed only on women, the male only on men). A moment later she glided down, and was just about to light on her favorite crag, when Nayénĕzgạni hurled another lightning arrow and sent her body down to the plain to join that of her mate.
338. The young ones now began to cry, and they said to the warrior: “Will you slay us, too?” “Cease your wailing,” he cried. “Had you grown up here you would have been things of evil; you would have lived only to destroy my people; but I shall now make of you something that will be of use in the days to come when men increase in the land.” He seized the elder and said to it, “You shall furnish plumes for men to use in their rites, and bones for whistles.” He swung the fledgling back and forth four times; as he did so it began to change into a beautiful bird with strong wings, and it said: “Sŭk, sŭk, sŭk, sŭk.” Then he threw it high in the air. It spread its pinions and soared out of sight, an eagle. To the younger he said: “In the days to come men will listen to your voice to know what will be their future: sometimes you will tell the truth; sometimes you will lie.” He swung it back and forth, and as he did so its head grew large and round; its eyes grew big; it began to say, “Uwú, uwú, uwú, uwú,” and it became an owl. Then he threw it into a hole in the side of the cliff and said: “This shall be your home.”[138]
339. As he had nothing more to do at Tséʻbĭtaï, he determined to go home, but he soon found that there was no way for him to descend the rock; nothing but a winged creature could reach or leave the ledge on which he stood. The sun was about half way down to the horizon when he observed the Bat Woman walking along near the base of the cliff. “Grandmother,” he called aloud, “come hither and take me down.” “Tsĕ′dăni,”[139] she answered, and hid behind a point of rock. Again she came in view, and again he called her; but she gave him the same reply and hid herself again. Three times were these acts performed and these words said. When she appeared for the fourth time and he begged her to carry him down, he added: “I will give you the feathers of the Tseʻnă′hale if you will take me off this rock.” When she heard this she approached the base of the rock, and soon disappeared under the ledge where he stood. Presently he heard a strange flapping sound,[140] and a voice calling to him: “Shut your eyes and go back, for you must not see how I ascend.” He did as he was bidden, and soon after the Bat Woman stood beside him. “Get into this basket, and I will carry you down,” she demanded. He looked at the large carrying-basket which she bore on her back, and observed that it hung on strings as thin as the strings of a spider’s web. “Grandmother,” he said, “I fear to enter your basket; the strings are too thin.” “Have no fear,” she replied; “I often carry a whole deer in this basket: the strings are strong enough to bear you.” Still he hesitated, and still she assured him. The fourth time that he expressed his fear she said: “Fill the basket with stones and you will see that I speak the truth.” He did as he was bidden, and she danced around with the loaded basket on her back; but the strings did not break, though they twanged like bowstrings. When he entered the basket she bade him keep his eyes shut till they reached the bottom of the cliff, as he must not see how she managed to descend. He shut his eyes, and soon felt himself gradually going down; but he heard again the strange flapping against the rock, which so excited his curiosity that he opened his eyes. Instantly he began to fall with dangerous rapidity, and the flapping stopped; she struck him with her stick and bade him shut his eyes. Again he felt himself slowly descending, and the flapping against the rock began. Three times more he disobeyed her, but the last time they were near the bottom of the cliff, and both fell to the ground unhurt.
340. Together they plucked the two Tseʻnă′hale, put the feathers in her basket, and got the basket on her back. He reserved only the largest feather from one wing of each bird for his trophies. As she was starting to leave he warned her not to pass through either of two neighboring localities, which were the dry beds of temporary lakes; one was overgrown with weeds, the other with sunflowers. Despite his warning she walked toward the sunflowers. As she was about to enter them he called after her again, and begged her not to go that way, but she heeded him not and went on. She had not taken many steps among the sunflowers when she heard a fluttering sound behind her, and a little bird of strange appearance flew past her close to her ear. As she stepped farther on she heard more fluttering and saw more birds of varying plumage, such as she had never seen before, flying over her shoulders and going off in every direction. She looked around, and was astonished to behold that the birds were swarming out of her own basket. She tried to hold them in, to catch them as they flew out, but all in vain. She laid down her basket and watched, helplessly, her feathers changing into little birds of all kinds,—wrens, warblers, titmice, and the like,—and flying away, until her basket was empty. Thus it was that the little birds were created.[141]
341. When he got home Toʻbadzĭstsíni said to him: “Elder brother, I have watched the kethawns all the time you were gone. About midday the black cigarette took fire, and I was troubled, for I knew you were in danger; but when it had burned half way the fire went out and then I was glad, for I thought you were safe again.” “Ah, that must have been the time when Tseʻnă′hale carried me up and threw me on the rocks,” said Nayénĕzgạni. He hung his trophies on the east side of the lodge, and then he asked his mother where Tseʻtahotsĭltáʻli[142] dwelt. She told him he lived at Tseʻtezáʻ; but, as on previous occasions, she warned him of the power of the enemy, and tried to dissuade him from seeking further dangers. Next morning he set out to find Tseʻtahotsĭltáʻli, He Who Kicks (People) Down the Cliff. This anáye lived on the side of a high cliff, a trail passed at his feet, and when travellers went that way he kicked them down to the bottom of the precipice. Nayénĕzgạni had not travelled long when he discovered a well-beaten trail; following this, he found that it led him along the face of a high precipice, and soon he came in sight of his enemy, who had a form much like that of a man. The monster reclined quietly against the rock, as if he meditated no harm, and Nayénĕzgạni advanced as if he feared no danger, yet watching his adversary closely. As he passed, the latter kicked at him, but he dodged the kick and asked: “Why did you kick at me?” “Oh, my grandchild,” said the anáye, “I was weary lying thus, and I only stretched out my leg to rest myself.” Four times did Nayénĕzgạni pass him, and four times did the monster kick at him in vain. Then the hero struck his enemy with his great stone knife over the eyes, and struck him again and again till he felt sure that he had slain him; but he was surprised to find that the body did not fall down the cliff. He cut with his knife under the corpse in different places, but found nothing that held it to the rock until he came to the head, and then he discovered that the long hair grew, like the roots of a cedar, into a cleft in the rock. When he cut the hair,[143] the body tumbled down out of sight. The moment it fell a great clamor of voices came up from below. “I want the eyes,” screamed one; “Give me an arm,” cried another; “I want the liver,” said a third; “No, the liver shall be mine,” yelled a fourth; and thus the quarrelling went on. “Ah!” thought Nayénĕzgạni, “these are the children quarrelling over the father’s corpse. Thus, perhaps, they would have been quarrelling over mine had I not dodged his kicks.”
342. He tried to descend along the trail he was on, but found it led no farther. Then he retraced his steps till he saw another trail that seemed to lead to the bottom of the cliff. He followed it and soon came to the young of the anáye, twelve in number, who had just devoured their father’s corpse; the blood was still streaming from their mouths. He ran among them, and hacked at them in every direction with his great stone knife. They fled; but he pursued them, and in a little while he had killed all but one. This one ran faster than the rest, and climbed among some high rocks; but Nayénĕzgạni followed him and caught him. He stopped to take breath; as he did so he looked at the child and saw that he was disgustingly ugly and filthy. “You ugly thing,” said Nayénĕzgạni; “when you ran from me so fleetly I thought you might be something handsome and worth killing; but now that I behold your face I shall let you live. Go to yonder mountain of Natsĭsaán[144] and dwell there. It is a barren land, where you will have to work hard for your living, and will wander ever naked and hungry.” The boy went to Natsĭsaán, as he was told, and there he became the progenitor of the Pahutes, a people ugly, starved, and ragged, who never wash themselves and live on the vermin of the desert.[145]